


FIC: SOMEWHERE UNDER THE TREES [PART 2]

by BlueDiamondStar



Category: White Collar
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Songfic, first big bang fic, whitecollarbb
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:16:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueDiamondStar/pseuds/BlueDiamondStar





	FIC: SOMEWHERE UNDER THE TREES [PART 2]

**PART 1** <http://marissaangell.livejournal.com/9899.html>

  
**Chapter 5**

It was the weekend. But definitely didn't feel like that. He was camped out in living room with all the possible files about his MIA partner.

It was actually funny how Marshals' monitoring system had noticed his consultant's disappearance only on Sunday, late afternoon. So by later that night Peter was sitting there, on his couch, armored with all the necessary paperwork and studied New York's map.

Once again his eyes swept over the jagged line of Neal's tracker data. It seemed weird and his gut told him clearly Neal hadn't run. Well, he had, for quite a while, but not like that. And it left him worried.

Neal had been behaving, wasn't causing trouble. They were having dinner together. But nothing, as far as he could tell, had seemed different.

So nothing suggested Neal had angered someone and they had gone for revenge. But then what?

He rubbed his eyes and cast a glance at clock. Two in the morning. Approximately same time Neal had left June's.

At first slowly, like walking. All the way to the park. Than for half an hour no movement. Peter decided Neal had been sitting down and having some thoughtful moment like he did sometimes, or maybe he was sketching. After that things started to look weird.

The line started to appear in half loops. And moving deeper into the park. And there Peter started to get his vibes about the possible fate of the younger man.

And after a while, he checked timeline, Neal was sprinting chaotically around park before dashing off the grid. The signal had wavered and then stopped transmitting. Until it popped back on, three hours later and occasionally flickering, outside New York. In the woods.

And that was what most definitely alarmed the agent. Neal of all the people definitely wouldn't choose woods for his runaway point. In all the time he'd spent chasing the kid Neal had been tediously avoiding anything that wasn't fancy hotel, exclusive restaurant, upper class party, cities with art museums and whatever else that offered comfort.

Neal wasn't running, no, he was, but not from the FBI, not from Peter, not from his life here. No, not again.

He was running from something else. From danger.

Suddenly there was a bleep and flickering dot appeared on the tracker map. It was still transmitting. Barely. But at least it gave start.

Although, they couldn't be sure the anklet was still attached to Neal. No, it had to. Peter shook his head, he will not believe it, tracker's still on Neal, the kid hadn't left it.

His friend was in danger and he needed help, he wouldn't leave anklet.

That was what Peter stuck to when he called his boss and his team. He was the Caffrey expert, he knew better.

**~~~~~~~~~wcwcwc~~~~~~~~~**

**Chapter 6**

It was pain that first registered. His head was hurting so bad it seemed as if he had dumped it into a bowl of hot coals... or maybe just drunk his whole wine collection in one evening. At least that was how it felt now. But Neal was fairly sure he hadn't drunk anything. Or was it just an illusion?

It sort of cleared when he tried to lift his upper body from lying position. The pain shooting throughout his chest and torso overall seemed unlike any possible hangover should feel like. Not that he'd ever drunk that much to be absolutely sure it couldn't happen.

So he kept lying flat on the ground, not moving, and waiting for pain to lessen. His eyes were squeezed tight shut.

He had no idea how much time passed before he could take a controlled breath and open his eyes, Neal assumed it had taken quite some time. He took a tentative glance around. Still the same woods,his brain finally had kicked in and provided missing information on why he had such a killer headache.

So it wasn't a dream, he decided.

Unfortunately it didn't solve his persisting problem.

He still had the same problem, and same obstacles. Any other time there'd be a solution, someone near to ask for help (if his pride would allow such fancy), but this time the great Neal Caffrey was on his own.

Once again glaring at the cliff, he realized that maybe he should start moving, and possibly try to get to the other side of that sodded thing. He just sensed there had to be something on the other side. If he'd came from that way, it might mean there was a road or something. Maybe even city of some sort. A vague feeling of definite solution hiding behind the huge mass of fairly solid rock, soil and whatnot usually covered the grounds of the woods made Neal to stick to his newly baked plan. Well, as much as one could call it a plan.

But as much as he wanted he couldn't run anywhere, not in his condition. And his brain just knew how to revenge for making it work hard in the thinking area by sloshing around Neal's skull with newfound energy and twice as more pain. It hurt badly, and just the head.

His whole body throbbed fiercely on top of agonizing waves of spasms from most injured parts.

But what ached the most was the feeling of being alone. Of course, Neal's been alone for the great part of his life so it shouldn't matter. But it did. Greatly.

And especially when lost in the woods and injured. Even in his con life things like this happened rarely if at all. Maybe because he was either too young and excited about his new world or there was Mozzie who kept him on his toes and poked repeatedly if he became too emotional.

Well, despite his surroundings Neal wouldn't say no to company, even if that warranted endless lectures about government weapons on mind control and equally nonsense. That would be at least something to hold on to and definitely help distract him from thinking, which in this stage was getting not only more painful but also made things start go all whoozy and made him start blank out uncomfortably.

Who'd thought a concussion could be this annoying.

He of course knew it. Not really the first time to bang his head up of bump into something wrongly.

There had been heists not-too-smooth. Those he never mentioned again.

Because the great Neal Caffrey was never clumsy or made mistakes, because Neal Caffrey was always graceful and had everything planned to perfection and even if something unexpected happened he always was quick thinker of solutions for emergencies. At that's what the con man had always made sure everyone would hear and know.

He made sure nobody heard of Liechtenstein, or about Kopenhagen. He never ever again mentioned about the other Spain incident and always made sure to look mildly uninterested when the topic came up again, because this was just too ungraceful thing to even remember, let alone allowing whole FBI to find out it was him indeed to be the one to cause some shameful mess in a museum. No, Neal Caffrey couldn't allow anyone hear about that other side, the one some people tend to video-tape and gloat when some funniest video tv show aired them in national television for whole country to see and laugh themselves dumb. No, he was too ashamed to even revisit in his own mind let alone any other living and breathing human being.

Neal was proud of his self-created and well maintained image.

Nobody needed to hear about passing out in a ventilation shaft and waking up with paint stained cheek few hours later. Or about that totally unflattering splash in mud while scaling some museum wall with stolen sculpture tied to his side which later sported a very embarrassing black bruise and cracked ribs. And most definitely he will never ever let the word out about that mishap in that art gallery, he was still happy the guard slipped on the floor instead of shooting him because then it'd be completely different story now, when he is just relieved to have it the way it happened albeit not the perfect one it did happen.

So Neal would never talk about all those things. Because he had to maintain that impeccable con man attire he'd created. And he would never want to experience Peter's reaction to all that. No, it would completely ruin whatever opinion the agent had about his CI, and it'd add the completely unnecessary laughing fits from all over the bullpen if it ever came out. He wouldn't be able to live with those giggles whenever he passed any of the other agents.

No, this would definitely ruin his appearance and make him into one of those americans who were displaying their clumsiness on tv. That really wasn't him- the suave con man extraordinare, art thief internationale.

**~~~~~wc~~~~**

**Chapter 7**

__****Almost hope you're in heaven****  
So no one can hurt your soul  
Living in agony  
Cause I just do not know  
Where you are

It didn't took long for his team to gather and start overviewing Neal's tracker data.

Convincing Marshals and Hughes was entirely different story. But his boss trusted Peter's gut and eventually caved in. Besides it wasn't that hard, Reese Hughes secretly liked Neal. He admired the kid's ability to solve the cases and he really loved how it improved the bureau in the eyes of his superiors. Neal had increased their rating amongst all the other FBI units and especially among the other white collar crime offices.

It made everything look good and promised good things for the bureau.

But what was happening now turned everything around and left too many question marks.

But Hughes wasn't fool, he saw his own eyes how unnatural the tracking line had appeared on the monitor. And he felt it himself, the slight uneasiness about their CI. He had gathered that Neal wasn't exactly the guy for camping trip nor enjoyed too many outside activities aside sitting on his terrace or sketching at park. Maybe a joyride on a yacht was the most of what. Neal would do. Yeah, he liked to take occasional walks within his two mile radius, but it seemed picnic at park would be the end of the limit. Neal Caffrey wouldn't go to woods willingly. And he just returned from an island. He was behaving and working extra willingly. It wasn't like him to suddenly sprint out of the city in the middle of a night, no, that wasn't Neal Caffrey they knew.

So Hughes had made an effort to only appear doubtful at first to add to agitated Marshals (who said that Neal was the only con in the room), only to masterfully doubt the whole thing and keep the very annoying Marshals more on their toes. And finally after some more discussing it was now FBI versus Marshals.

It had taken some serious convincing afterwards to make the offending Marshals leave the matters to FBI and not call a nationwide manhunt.

They both, he and Peter, had it resting in their guts, that their favorite CI could be in serious danger, and it didn't slip any of them that Neal might be hurt and unable to move, hence the tracker staying put. They could only pray he was still alive...

Seeing the whole convincing tirade from bullpen wasn't easy. Diana and Jones both liked Neal. Diana more secretly than her fellow.

But that didn't mean Neal deserved to be thought as a criminal. Maybe at first. Diana didn't trust Caffrey at all on his first month. Just like Peter she suspected the deal as some sort of con Neal was pulling on them to find Kate and then run off with the girl.

Peter's thoughts maybe changed a bit sooner than Diana's. She kept watchful eye on the sneaky man and hoped he won't make them regret the whole CI deal. Of course, after a while the guy started to appear quite okay. Maybe her guard went a bit down after that hotel stay. They had talked laying down on a bed, dressed in fluffy white bathrobes. Maybe that was when Diana started to think of Caffrey of someone other than a tool in the bureau's belt. It may have taken a while but Diana thought of Neal as a friend.

He had changed. A lot. After the whole Kate ordeal she felt pretty sympathetic towards the con. It had totally shattered his heart. For a while she wasn't sure Neal will be fine.

The thing with Fowler put Neal into an even worse state. Not that anyone could tell. Caffrey's gotten himself a pretty good emotion armor. But only those who knew could guess that behind that mask of "Caffrey" was a truly broken man who was lost and needed guidance.

And Mozzie's shooting had totally destroyed what little strength Neal had left. The little man was his only friend and oldest friend he could trust with his life.

Diana could only guess how it must hurt to nearly loose his dear friend.

The thought alone made her shiver.

And now Neal was missing. God knows where and according to satellite data the area had some pretty nasty places for someone to get hurt.

"You think he's hurt?" Jones voice brought her out of deep thoughts.

"I hope not." she replied, still doubting the better possibility. The dot hadn't moved in a while and it kept occasionally coming back to life blinking in the same spot. "I hope he's at least safe. Knowing Caffrey's luck I'd say he's at least not running around. Peter would be proud." Diana allowed a slight shadow of humor. But knowing the guy it was both relief and worry. Neal wasn't known to be sitting around calmly when told. So his stationary signal was indeed worrisome.

Jones allowed a vague smile.

Yeah, Neal was known to be on the move, so this kind of staying put gave him slight creeps.

He liked the other man. They had even spent some time talking.

And it wasn't that bad, not at all. Neal was a great guy, if you looked past his criminal past.

He had a wide knowledge of things and he turned out to be a great cobversationalist. They could talk easily and despite first time reservations bonded easily.

Jones wasn't even bothered by his whining about stake outs in the van. Because who'd like the endless hours of sitting and dying from boredom. Not that he risked to tell Peter. Neal was the one famous for complaining, not Jones.

But it didn't made him stop liking the man.

And why, it was good to have a friend who had pretty wide view of things. And Neal had a style.

"I really don't like this." Jones said to Diana. She looked back, sharing the same worried look.

"Yeah, me too." Diana said with a sigh.

For a moment there was complete silence. Only sound was from computers.

The other agents were huddled together at one of the desks, seemingly going through some paperwork their superiors had given them.

Most of them didn't know the missing man beyond the paperwork. They lacked the personal knowledge of Neal.

With a sigh Jones turned back to his computer which also had Neal's anklet data pulled up along satellite map of the area.

Diana was digging into all the possible traffic cameras that could've caught Neal on his way.

But he doubt it'll help much. So far no results.

Jones kept digging for all the topographic maps of the area to try to see if there's any geologic reason for Neal's lack of movement.

It occurred to him there could be a cave where the man could be hiding from whatever danger. Or maybe some steep downfall where he could've toppled down. Maybe some hole in the ground, hidden from naked eye, and Neal had stumbled into and stayed, not able to climb out.

He did all to not think of possible injuries. And mixed with all other possibilities it came out pretty dark thoughts to encounter. But they had to be ready. Anything was possible and so far they were let alone to try and find. They were given twenty-four hours to find Neal. After that Missing Persons will take over to start their own investigation.

Jones hoped it won't get that far and that anklet was still attached to his leg the way Peter put it on after last undercover job.

It was what kept him sane.

Clinton believed they'll find their consultant just like they nailed his location after he fled for Cape Verde.

They had found the island by the bell sounds heard over the phone. It had been real breakthrough and despite all the manhunt and bullet wound in the leg things had ended okay. Neal was back and higher ups convinced it was to help catching other badass. So they reinstated Neal and his old deal was back. Of course they had been looking at Peter with great suspicion but somehow things smoothed out after some unpleasant poking and prodding. So Neal had finally behaved, partially because of his inability to move around much but partially because he was bearing great respect for Peter and had promised not only him but El too to be a good boy and not cause trouble.

And he kept his promises. Jones was really proud.

Only now it will all get some more poking and prodding. This time with more suspicion.

He just prayed for things to get back to normal, as much as it could be with one sneaky ex-con trotting around and giving everyone his megawatt smiles.

Now that he was back to full mobility his eyes had regained the old sparkle and his step the old bounce.

And Clinton had asked, often enough, how Neal was feeling. He could see that behind all the smiles and shrugs and nonchalant deflection hid something else; a deeper feeling, something Neal made effort to keep hidden and not talk about.

Well, maybe some day...

It happened suddenly, unexpectedly. The dot on their computers, that previously just blinked undecidedly on the map, had begun wild beeping and blinking with more urgency.

Whether it was gps satellite or just some circuit within the anklet's mechanism, but it had gotten more stable. Maybe Neal himself had poked it back to life, or some connection suddenly got through to some electronical clutter but it was a good thing.

Map was now showing his location properly and before anyone had been able to make out a beep, Peter was already ordering the search party on the way.

Jones and Diana shared a knowing smile, before they rushed to the elevator, they knew. Their gut was telling all the good things and both trusted it fiercely. Because no other option would be allowed to cross their mind.

~ **~~~~~~wcwcwc~~~~~~~**

**Chapter 8**

It was the distant rumble of thunder that brought him back to the land of living. He jolted up, but sank back down on the ground with equal speed, added some inhuman sound (that nondescript mix between a yelp, whine, cry, sigh and choked gasp). Despite being barely awake yet Neal's surprise hearing his own voice making such sounds surprised him nonetheless.

God, he sounded awful, Neal almost shook his head, but refrained in the last moment, appearantly his brain hadn't yet lost all the operating functions.

Another rumble made itself noticed. The young man almost yelped like a kicked puppy. Being caught in a thunderstorm in the middle of woods didn't call for a party. Actually it wasn't fun anywhere. Even on a street thunderstorms didn't offer comfort, especially when a person was hurt and couldn't get inside.

So it definitely wasn't fun to be around a thunderstorm, no matter where one was situated.

But there was still sun shining. So probably he hadn't slept for too long. At least Neal hoped. He'd totally lost the track of time.

With his fine hand he reached to ruffle the unruly mop of dark brown, curly hair as his eyes travelled over to his left ankle, where usually offending, but currently hopeful, device was still attached. To his utter surprise the thing was rapidly and pretty strongly blinking red. He nearly passed out from pure relief.

It was a good thing. It meant Peter was coming. He's gonna be rescued.

It meant cavalry was on the way.

For a moment Neal completely ignored his swimming vision and black spots dancing around his line of sight. He just couldn't believe Candy's youngest sister Alice (and if you asked he'd ever deny nicknaming his anklets, because it never was a good thing to become a laughing object at the office about such silly thing, but he just couldn't resist nickname the thing he spent more time with than his fancy suits, and Alice was just appropriate choice considering the "wonder" of his old deal being reinstated) was still alive. It had been silent for a long enough time Neal decided it was all, but there it was, blinking happily with what sounded a weakened giggles. Okay, maybe he was hallucinating already but the sound was definitely there, whatever it resembled more.

So it meant his chances weren't yet so doomed and that hopefully before storm arrives his saviors would come to spring him from this place.

_"Oh, Peter, you just have to be on the way. Oh god, please let him be. Peter I need you."_ Neal spoke out loud, more a whisper than anything else. He really hoped. Refused to accept otherwise. Because otherwise meant he was totally doomed and might not pull out of it alive.

No, he wasn't a pessimist, he just knew enough to tell what damage cannot be undone once the certain limits got over exceeded. And he happened to be aware of his condition.

If he kept passing out the way he's been all this time at some point he might not wake . And adding the amount of pain his chances to survive long term stay, especially in bad weather, made it all look more glum.

He wouldn't be able to pull through. For now he'd managed to somewhat dull the agony from his injuries, but by this rate he doubt his concussion will let it happen few more days. And there was still an infection risks and internal bleeding risks. Neal was no doctor but appropriate read in his free time and some out-of-curiousity research had provided enough insight to know when things were beyond the _"cowboying up"_.

And there was nothing he could right now. He felt weak, exhaustion was starting to make it even harder to pull together a string of coherent thoughts. And the waves of dizziness were making his nausea threaten to form even more offending form.

It wasn't good.

Being in woods sucked on better days, and even more in times like this.

Had been Peter there Neal would started his usual whining and complaining about all possible spider, snake, bear and even wolf attacks. He'd whine about how much his butt hated the hard ground, how silly it was to not think about extra blankets in case of bad camping spot. He'd complain about Peter's idea of not warning him before which had resulted in bad choice of footwear, because the great Neal Caffrey never did camping trips.

But that'd be a good day. One where they find a cabin, equipped enough for decent stay. And they'd have a nice fireplace, decent coffee and dinner out of a can.

But it would be a nice time spent together. Peter was Neal's friend, best friend even. And El too. He enjoyed El's presence.

She had liked him from the very start. And he wasn't even trying to con her. Just a chat, with another human being, without any hidden agendas. Genuinely enjoyed conversation. He immediately liked Peter's wife.

It was something he had never told anyone. And he will never tell either.

He missed honest human contact in prison. Yes, he get to see Kate, but that was it, just a vision, no way to make it physically proved. And he needed physical contact to be sure he's not imagining things. But sometimes it just felt like it was all a dream. That none of it was real.

Neal felt lost after Kate told him off. Like a part of him was cut out. But it wasn't in his nature to display weaknesses. He escaped instead.

Only for Peter to bring him back.

He put up the idea of making deal with the FBI.

He got out.

Neal wasn't entirely sure when it stopped being a con. He couldn't tell when it turned into something else, something more. Partnership. Friendship.

All he knew was that he was there for Peter, and Peter for him.

He truly cared for the agent, and worried when something happened.

He often jumped to things just to make sure El gets her husband back home in one piece. He would never want to El get upset so he tried to keep Peter out of trouble as much as it was in his power. Which was not too much. Peter was FBI agent and it was always possible to get into some shady business and that made it rather hard to avoid danger. So it was mostly Neal who got trouble following, because he was a natural trouble magnet.

He knew Peter would be mad if found out some tiny way it was himself that called trouble upon to save his friend and partner from more stuff.

And it was partially because Neal didn't possess any chance without Peter and his strong hand guiding (to say it at least halfway poetical).

Truth to be told, Neal was an asset. A tool in bureau's belt. And he couldn't exist there without a handler, Peter.

Maybe it started as a con, but eventually Neal had looked at it from other angle and seen the good in it. He'd seen the whole new world, one without a need to run constantly, to hide, to lie, to pretend. In this world he was something good. He had friends and family, people who cared for him the way he dared not to ask for. People who were ready to go great lengths to protect him, to make sure he was safe. And feel loved.

The next rumble, much closer and more threatening sounding, didn't ever registered in Neal's brain. He was deep in thoughts. His mind wandering between places darker than the ocean deep, sometimes brighter than the blinding sun in his face.

He missed Peter. His gruff voice telling him to _"cowboy up"_ because what was a bit of green to do other than clear his city-infested lungs with fresh forest air. Peter's strong arms to hold him while pain spiked through his sore body and offer comfort that would all seem safe again.

He hadn't neither...

His blue eyes trailed back to Alice, the still transmitting anklet, and he felt the lone tear slide down his mud covered, bruised cheek. _"I don't want to die. Please don't let me die here."_ Was his weak whisper against a rumbling thunder...

**~~~~~~~wc~~~~~~~~**

**Chapter 9**

__****I'll find you somewhere****  
I'll keep on trying  
Until my dying day  
I just need to know  
Whatever has happened  
The truth will free my soul

They could all hear it, see it and feel it. A mixture of tangled emotions.

The bleeps of GPS signal the only thing keeping them sane and controlled.

There was a storm coming. Weather reports said nothing good was promised. It wasn't coming fast, one good thing. The bad thing was that it accumulated more energy on the way therefore promising bigger deal upon arrival. That was the bad news.

There were reports already from various places that warned of tornado-like wind and extreme rain accompanied by golf ball sized hail.

They couldn't deny worry for Caffrey much longer.

"Boss?" Diana first split the dreadful silence as their van moved hastily towards the location.

"Yes, Diana." Peter replied.

"You think he's okay?" The words came out feeling weird on her tongue.

"Honest? I really don't know. I hope so. The fact that signal hasn't moved an inch worries me." He admitted what everyone else, Hughes including, was worrying over, knowing Neal. The young man was never sitting calm. He was always on the move and easily got bored. The guy was challenging, even before the deal was up.

Only thing they wondered about was how Neal could survive prison, if even a simple stake out night in the van caused sea of complaints.

Peter had actually done some follow up on Neal, while he was imprisoned. But not overly long. Maybe he should've had. However, Neal wasn't his only case and soon bigger fishes had started to take his time and patience, crime never slept, and so long only birthday cards reminded of the imprisoned con man. Well, he did few inquiries, if nothing else, than to make sure the man was still wearing orange and in the same place.

Up until he wasn't.

Peter still felt guilty for getting Kramer involved, but he couldn't know that the man he thought he knew and had learned from was so different from the one who basically had ordered Neal to become his personal slave for an eternity (at least Peter had put it that way in his mind). And finding his friend on that island, if only just shortly, had felt like biggest joy in the world, right after marrying El.

Up until Collins raided his house and found poorly hidden map with a bright red circle over Cape Verde.

After that things had gotten a bit crazy.

At least they got their friend back in one piece.

There had also been Keller, before. Peter could remember his anger at Neal for getting El kidnapped. Of course, not Neal's fault entirely, Keller had the biggest. And maybe, no not maybe, it was a big part of Mozzie's fault. Because he'd taken the Nazi loot.

Oh how mad he'd been at them, both, and Keller too.

But together they got it done, El was okay and Keller behind bars.

But not without some ugly bruises.

He couldn't (have had) helped himself to drop the anger upon seeing the hated criminal about to land another blow to Neal, already on the ground. Peter couldn't deny the pang of emotion that half second before he rammed himself into Keller and fought him. However it was Neal who ended the fight by miraculously shooting his enemy in the leg, through Peter's pant leg (he still couldn't shake the weirdness of Neal's gun handling skills all the while the man possessed strong hatred towards the offending weapons).

And after that, the next day, Neal had been so ready to give himself in. It proved something.

Neal had changed.

"Boss, you okay?" Diana's voice brought the reality back and he smiled.

"Yes, Diana. Just thought about something." He replied.

"Okay." She nodded. "We're almost there. Ten more minutes." The woman informed with a hint of slight relief in her voice. It was understandable, they all wanted to get out and search for Neal.

**~~~~~~~wc~~~~~~~**

**Chapter 10**

The wood was all calm. Previously chirping birds had all nestled wherever their nests lay. The was still beaming brightly, as if nothing was happening. The occasional gusts of wind was swaying the lower growing grass and leaves of bigger trees. Pine trees were standing tall and proud, overlooking their folks.

Everything seemed fine aside the threatening rumble from afar. Everyone knew what that meant. Squirrels quickly gathered their stock to hole in the old oak tree. There was a lean pine that still possessed cones. And only a lone woodpecker tried to drill a hole in it's trunk despite everything.

It was warm so ducks didn't hurry to enjoy a pond near the small cliff that separated wood from the interstate road. It wasn't too high, only about 16 feet.

A curious deer was sniffing around the wealthier greens.

Suddenly the youngster stopped dead in it's track. Behind the bush that held some juicy berries lay a figure. The creature knew a human form from the nearby horse farm and often visited for extra snack.

So he knew humans were also harmless and could offer some kindness. But this deer fowl had found other kind of human. Injured human.

The animal had seen few, from road accidents. Those humans were all bloody and often got stuck into black, crackling plastic bags and stuffed into big trucks. Sometimes a flashing red and blue lights came after them and rolled out flat boards. They looked nicer than the other kind.

But the little thing saw nothing of a kind around. Everything was calm despite the upcoming storm.

So this human was there all along, the deer wondered in its mind that held more than humans gave credit for.

The deer cautiously- you could never know- stepped closer. And observed.

Human on the ground was breathing, his eyes closed and chest slowly rose and fell, he had blood on the head and other places. Clothes torn and dirty. Face too.

The animal wondered whether this one too had fallen from the cliff. At least it looked that way.

The tree he was underneath swayed slightly more.

And suddenly the air turned a bit more dreadful, pre-storm warning mostly only animals sensed, but sometimes humans too.

Except this human. The deer looked back at the dark haired young man. To the woods creature he looked sad, and lonely.

And the deer knew it won't be good for human to be this way when the storm comes. So it gathered the courage only youth sported and poked the small nose at man's face. Unfortunately it caused no reaction, even after several tries.

Not good, the deer decided and sighed.

It took another thoughtful moment before another sound reached the _"Bambi's"_ ears. Another type of rumbling and voices nearby. Maybe they finally decided to collect their human, the little one thought hopeful.

So he listened. And listened.

Voices were further ahead and out of direct sight, they were at least six people and there was a strange beeping. Suddenly the similar sounding noise was coming from the still sleeping human. The deer startled a bit before taking another sniff and earful. The much weaker noise came from the man's leg, animal noticed and poked the guilty leg. There was something around the man's leg ending and it was alive, and calling. For help maybe?

_"Bambi"_ sneezed suddenly. Maybe the weird thing was calling for help because the human couldn't.

He listened for voices again. Few moved sideways but those with the beeping thing stood and discussed something.

If the deer had been human he'd started screaming and would've just pulled them over already. Sometimes humans were so silly.

And that's why the clever animal made decision to intervene. The storm felt bad, according to all vibes the whole forest received, and humans haven't done anything bad to him to wish them death, so it was help them instead, and maybe they won't hurt his family the other day.

It was possibly the strangest and at the same time best thing Peter had experienced, in the line of saving somebody.

They were just standing there, within the clutter of young pines, trying to decipher the right direction and sending cops to investigate a possible way back to road that didn't require climbing (because Peter doubted their ability to make the way back if Neal was in a worse state than just some bruises), when all of a sudden there was a young deer standing feet away from them and staring intently at them. At first they'd thought the thing was lost or something. But then Peter noticed the determination (and he swore to never talk about it with anyone) in the animal's eyes and stance.

Who'd thought non-humans could express so much with such limited ways.

It had stood there for a moment, staring fiercely, before turning around and skipping forward several feet. When nobody moved, it jumped once and moved back towards them. Diana suggested to watch a bit more. And they did so.

But the little thing repeated the motion twice more before Peter broke the spell and moved after the amazingly brave deer. He followed it with a quite an amount of doubt, his team hot on his heels, when they appeared in a more breathy space besides a small height cliff. That was where his, and not only, jaw fell to the ground with an impressive, resounding thud.

They all took a collective inhale and relieved sigh.

They'd found Neal Caffrey.

And in the most strangest way.

A dammed deer had led them to their missing man and if that wasn't enough it even poked Neal's face with it's tiny nose.

Oh how El will be excited to hear about. And Neal would probably gloat about that.

That thought alone kicked a sudden laugh out of the older agent. Which was enough to draw a collective laughing fit from his companions.

The cops returned with a team of EMTs (Jones turned out to be faster than his boss by calling it in the second he recognized Neal and before they all erupted into a laughing fit). For their surprise the man in question was indeed where his anklet was and to add that there was also a deer and his FBI colleagues having a laughing fit.

Fortunately medics were faster to react and quickly gathered around the obviously injured man, even the animal in question stepped aside. But for their surprise not completely away.

"Only Neal, only Neal..." Peter thought to himself, while still laughing at the hilariousity of the situation, and watching the medics tending to his partner.

__**Wherever you are  
I won't stop searching  
Whatever it takes me to know**

**The End**

**~~~~~~~wcwcwc~~~~~~~**


End file.
